Midnight
by Ni-chan
Summary: A battle leaves Endymion bleeding, and he seeks solace in the warmth of Serenity's bed. One shot


Title: Midnight  
  
Author: Nijuuni-gou  
  
Site: www.sweetbane.com  
  
E-mail: mhandler@ftgcorp.com  
  
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon is copyright to Takeuchi Naoko. I own no  
  
rights, nor am I making any profit.  
  
One shot.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Dark eyes peered out from beneath a shock of black silk, weariness  
  
and pain filling the cobalt depths. There was something painful about  
  
standing there, something besides the latest injury brought upon him.  
  
The bloodied sword fell to the carpeted floor quietly, the noise  
  
muffled by the soft plush rug. He stepped forward towards the bed,  
  
wincing ever-so slightly as the wound on his chest exploded in agony.  
  
He did not cry out, though any other man would have easily.  
  
Pressing onward toward the curtained bed, he let his hands drift to  
  
his shoulders to unclasp his cape. It was torn and soaked with blood,  
  
and it fell with a wet sound to the ground. He knew without looking  
  
that the spot on the floor beneath it would be stained red, but he  
  
didn't care. He moved deeper into the room, struggling with his black  
  
metal armor. He was careful to avoid his wound, careful not to make  
  
too much noise.  
  
Soon, he stood draped only in the nightly shadows. Moonlight from the  
  
windowed balcony -- the way he'd entered the room -- shone on the  
  
floor, cascading over the closed curtain of the bed.  
  
His heart pounded; he knew what lay behind the curtains. A trickle of  
  
blood poured down his side, dripping onto the floor, but he barely  
  
noticed. His strong, callused hand reached for the curtain, drawing it  
  
back.  
  
The breath he'd been holding was lodged in his throat. His tongue  
  
seemed to swell within the confines of his mouth. His eyes darkened  
  
and yet softened at the sight before him.  
  
She lay on the bed, the blanket cast over her haphazardly, barely  
  
covering her milky skin from the cold of the night. It was, actually,  
  
rather cold. His fingers felt frozen, and his toes were icy. But his  
  
eyes traveled over her sillhouette with a certain heat. She lay bare  
  
beneath the blanket, he knew. Her silver hair lay fanned out across  
  
the bed, liquid silver, pouring over the edges in tumbling waves. Her  
  
lips were parted slightly, rosy and pink, begging to be kissed. Her  
  
cheeks were pink as well, a permanent blush staining them. Her eyes  
  
were closed, and the crescent moon sigil on her brow shone softly in  
  
the filtering moonlight.  
  
His battered body ached to hold her. He could no longer keep himself  
  
standing, and if he did not reach the softness of her bed, he would  
  
collapse and die on the floor. Stumbling forward, he climbed in beside  
  
her..  
  
His arms went on either side of her, and despite his weakened state,  
  
he managed to somehow hold himself suspended above her. He could hear  
  
her breathing; he could feel it on his arm. His body ached to feel her  
  
skin against his, and his head bent down to capture her lips with his  
  
own.  
  
At first, the response was slow and sleepy, but soon he knew she  
  
recognized the feverish need that his lips could barely restrain, and  
  
a sigh released itself from her soft mouth. Everything about her was  
  
soft, something he never quite understood.  
  
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and his arms, over his back and  
  
his chest, until finally her fingers slid into the trail of crimson  
  
that spilled from his torso. A cry of panic replaced the wonderous  
  
sigh, and, hesitantly, he parted his lips from her own.  
  
"You're hurt," she whispered, the concern spilling into her soft  
  
voice. He wanted to groan at the sound of her voice. She sounded like  
  
an angel.  
  
"It's nothing," he assured her, wanting nothing more than to  
  
alleviate her fears and return to his task of holding her.  
  
"Endymion..." she murmured. He sighed dreamily.  
  
"Say it again, angel," he mumbled into her ear, kissing her pale  
  
throat softly.  
  
"Endymion," she repeated. The worry in her voice was vanishing  
  
slowly, and he was determined that the next time she said his name, it  
  
would be gone entirely.  
  
His hands roamed her body, moving hungrily over her delicate curves,  
  
absorbing the feel of her silken hair between his fingers, of her  
  
satin skin beneath his hands. He kissed her again, his lips trying to  
  
erase the worry.  
  
But her own small, tiny hand was at his wound, trying to determine  
  
the severity. With a sigh, Endymion pulled back.  
  
He felt her pale blue eyes on the wound as she assessed the damage.  
  
Her fingers gently traced the outline of his injury, as though it were  
  
merely another part of his godlike body. Her pale fingers were tinged  
  
with blood.  
  
"Endymion..." she said.  
  
He grasped her hand and lifted her bloodied fingers to his mouth. His  
  
lips encased her index finger, the taste of his own blood on her skin.  
  
He licked the redness off of her white skin, and he could feel her  
  
eyes fluttering closed.  
  
When he had cleaned the blood from her hands, he pulled her to him.  
  
He knew the blood was dripping onto the sheets of her bed, knew that  
  
it was dripping onto her pale body. His own fingers wiped away the  
  
blood, but this time it was she who licked his fingers clean.  
  
Her lips were tinged crimson now, and he kissed them roughly. He  
  
guided her body back to the softness of her bed, his hands caressing  
  
her as softly as he could bear.  
  
They made love gently as Endymion bled, and her small hand pressed  
  
over the bleeding wound as his trembling lips met her shoulder. A  
  
warmth spread outward from her palm, radiating into the wound, and he  
  
felt it close softly. The blood was wiped clean, and there was no  
  
trace left.  
  
He held her to him in the afterglow, her small body trembling against  
  
his own. Her forehead lay pressed against his hard, muscled chest, and  
  
his fingers tangled themselves in her hair.  
  
It had been the first of many battles, Serenity knew. This would not  
  
be the last time Endymion wandered into her bed, wounded and hungry.  
  
She knew that this would not be the last time that she used herself to  
  
heal him. She knew that she wasn't merely healing him physically. She  
  
was healing his soul.  
  
He read her thoughts and pulled her closer, tightening his hold on  
  
her. "I will protect you from the world," he whispered.  
  
"How can you protect me from a world you are a part of?" she asked.  
  
He had no answer.  
  
"Endymion, it was a battle."  
  
He could hear the fear in her voice. "It was a battle, Serenity."  
  
"There will be more."  
  
"There will be many more."  
  
Her last thought was not voiced, but he knew well what she wanted to  
  
say.  
  
"I will return from every battle, Serenity. I will always come back  
  
to you. The day I do not return is the day I die."  
  
"No," she mumbled, kissing his skin softly. "The day you do not  
  
return is they day we die."  
  
"Then after every battle, the gods will give me speed to return to  
  
you."  
  
He kissed her, trying to calm her fears. But he could feel the tears  
  
running down her cheeks, could see the memory of his blood fresh in  
  
her mind.  
  
"I love you, Serenity," he told her, trying to calm her once more.  
  
"I love you, Endymion," she cried softly, "but I fear that the  
  
battles have only just begun."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The next day, the Silver Millennium was attacked. One by one, the  
  
soldiers fell, and Endymion was impaled to save his love. Serenity  
  
fell upon Endymion's blade, dying as she lay her head upon his chest.  
  
Their souls were sent to the future, in hope that they would find one  
  
another again... 


End file.
